A FAREWELL. FAREWELL, thou little Nook of mountain-ground, Of that magnificent temple which doth bound The loveliest spot that man hath ever found, Farewell! we leave thee to Heaven's peaceful care, Our boat is safely anchored by the shore, 5 10 15 Sunshine and shower be with you, bud and bell! 20 We go for one to whom ye will be dear; 25 And she will prize this Bower, this Indian shed, A gentle Maid, whose heart is lowly bred, Whose pleasures are in wild fields gathered, With joyousness, and with a thoughtful cheer, 30 Will come to you; to you herself will wed; And love the blessed life that we lead here. Dear Spot! which we have watched with tender heed, Bringing thee chosen plants and blossoms blown Among the distant mountains, flower and weed, 35 Making all kindness registered and known ; Thou for our sakes, though Nature's child indeed, Hast taken gifts which thou dost little need. 40 And O most constant, yet most fickle Place, Thou hast thy wayward moods, as thou dost show And say'st, when we forsake thee, "Let them go !" 45 Thou easy-hearted Thing, with thy wild race Of weeds and flowers, till we return be slow, And travel with the year at a soft pace. Help us to tell Her tales of years gone by, And this sweet spring, the best beloved and best; 50 Joy will be flown in its mortality; Something must stay to tell us of the rest. Here, thronged with primroses, the steep rock's breast Glittered at evening like a starry sky; And in this bush our sparrow built her nest, 55 Of which I sang one song that will not die. O happy Garden! whose seclusion deep 60 Two burning months let summer overleap, TO H. C. SIX YEARS OLD. O THOU! whose fancies from afar are brought; The breeze-like motion and the self-born carol; In such clear water, that thy boat May rather seem To brood on air than on an earthly stream ; Where earth and heaven do make one imagery; O blessed vision! happy child! Thou art so exquisitely wild, - I think of thee with many fears For what may be thy lot in future years. 1802. 5 10 I thought of times when Pain might be thy guest, Lord of thy house and hospitality; 15 And Grief, uneasy lover! never rest But when she sate within the touch of thee. O too industrious folly! O vain and causeless melancholy! Nature will either end thee quite ; Or, lengthening out thy season of delight, Preserve for thee, by individual right, A young lamb's heart among the full-grown flocks. 20 What hast thou to do with sorrow, Or the injuries of to-morrow? Thou art a dew-drop, which the morn brings forth, Ill fitted to sustain unkindly shocks, Or to be trailed along the soiling earth; A gem that glitters while it lives, And no forewarning gives; But, at the touch of wrong, without a strife Slips in a moment out of life. 1802. 25 30 Thee Winter in the garland wears Whole Summer-fields are thine by right; When rains are on thee. In shoals and bands, a morrice train, Yet nothing daunted, Nor grieved if thou be set at nought: We meet thee, like a pleasant thought, Be violets in their secret mews The flowers the wanton Zephyrs choose; Thou liv'st with less ambitious aim, If to a rock from rains he fly, And wearily at length should fare ; ΙΟ 15 20 25 309 35 40 |